In The Face Of The Odds
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Sometimes, when circumstances force lovers apart, destiny brings them back together. Canon until up to OotP.
1. Introductions

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, yada yada yada, you know the rest

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything, yada yada yada, you know the rest.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for long absence from fanfic, ya. Busy with the unreasonable demands of school.

Every couple has their own special memory: how they met. Many are common, like having a mutual friend, similar interests, a chance meeting at a party.

Others are not so. Some fondly recall the day they realized there was such a thing as love at first sight. Some credit a disaster. Some even were betrothed as infants through arranged wizarding marriages.

But not many couples have a fully-grown, bull mountain troll to thank.

And not as many have been through so much trials together and come out stronger, forged into fine steel by fire.

_October 9__th__, 1991_

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet, save for the occasional clanking of the suits of armour as they shifted on their stands. The lone figure of Professor Quirrell shuffled through the corridor, the silhouette he cast on the stone walls flickering as he twitched nervously at the slightest sound.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was heading back to his office after a particularly taxing lesson with the Gryffindor and Slytherin third years. The tip of his massive purple turban still smoked a little, a souvenir of the Salamander a student had levitated over it. The unfortunate creature, not used to hovering so high up, had sparked, igniting the fabric. _Damn that boy, _thought Quirrell furiously. _He and his twin brother, those idiotic Weasleys. One day, he ought to use the Cruciatus curse on the pair of them and watch them writhe. _His lip twisted into a smile which contrasted quite starkly with his murderous thoughts before he remembered. The smile became a nervous tic and his lower lip quivered, giving his face quite a pathetic cast.

At last, he reached the relative safety of his office. Unlocking the door, Quirrell swept around the room, casting security wards and charms, as many as he could think of. All hesitation and tremors were gone now, and he worked with strong, self-assured movements. It was quite a while before he stopped, satisfied at last. Being a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, of course, the room practically shimmered with magic.

_Now I can finally relax._

Quirrell's hands moved upwards, fingers finding the loose end of the purple fabric tucked into the folds and carefully unwinding it to expose a shaven crown. The cloth was singed in the middle, a minor problem he easily remedied with an impatient snap of his fingers. He had been aching to do that back in the classroom, plus send a few hexes in the Weasleys' direction but he couldn't risk blowing his cover. Professor Nero Augustus Quirrell had to appear utterly weak and spineless to all.

"_Quirrell…"_

"Master!" The word escaped his lips in a soft hiss.

The back of his clean-shaven head opened into a reptilian face, with slits for eyes and nostrils. The eyes blinked.

"_Have you secured the Stone?"_

Quirrell cringed, wringing his hands before him, looking very much the coward he had pretended to be.

"N – no, Master, not yet, Severus Snape has been watching me – Aaaah!"

He shrieked a pure screech of agony, falling to the cold stone floor and clutching his forehead.

"_Silence, worm! Lord Voldemort does not care for pathetic excuses! I do not wish to remain here, barely alive and subsisting on unicorn blood!"_

"I am sorry, Master!" wailed Quirrell. "I will do better, I will succeed…"

The red slits narrowed. _"Severus…He has been stopping you from getting the Stone?"_

Quirrell staggered to his feet, quite fearful of another attack. "Yes, my lord, he constantly thwarts my plans. It was he who saved Potter when I almost had him off his broom."

"_Aaaaah, yes... My faithful servant. Dumbledore suspects nothing of him," _said the voice softly. _"He alone is loyal to me."_

Quirrell bristled a little at that. "_I _am your faithful servant as well, my lord. It was I who rescued you from the forest in Albania – "

He doubled up, brain on fire from another blast of Legilimency. This blast was particularly stinging, digging up painful memories from the very back of his subconscious where he'd buried them: a small boy being beaten with a belt, gales of mocking laughter directed at the same terrified boy, a young man bullied by his classmates…

"_I am tired," _hissed Voldemort. _"I require more unicorn blood tonight."_

Gradually, Quirrell felt the dark presence clouding his mind fade away, leaving him fully in control.

He staggered unsteadily to the table, drawing out a bottle of Firewhisky and a tumbler from a hidden drawer. With a wave of his hand, the bottle uncorked itself and was about to pour its contents into the tumbler when it paused in mid-air.

"Ah, what the hell," growled Quirrell. "Why bother?"

The bottle flew into his open hand and he tossed back his head, gulping the liquid fire, feeling it sear his throat and numb his senses.

He would need a plan.

Quirrell already knew what traps to overcome. Heck, he had contributed one of his own and a few secret ones. What he needed was a clear shot at the Philosopher's Stone without that meddling Snape or the Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore interfering.

He needed a distraction.

Something that would keep the teachers' attention securely off him. But what was potent enough to do that?

_Think, Nero. Use that famous brain of yours. You are first and foremost a scholar._

The bottle was tipped again and more of its contents vanished down his throat. The only thing that would distract all the teachers was a threat to their students. What could he do?

He sat there, lost in thought until a feral roar from the castle grounds startled him, making him drop the Firewhisky.

Face contorted in rage, Quirrell glared out the window. Hagrid was there, busy with some fanged, ugly beast, one of his man-killing creatures, no doubt. _That great, clumsy, oafish troll…_

He paused.

_Troll._

That was it! He'd capture a large troll, a mountain troll, and turn it loose in the school. Yes! It was ridiculously simple. The troll was easy enough to control, yet big enough to pose some threat to the students. He would misdirect the teachers searching for the creature and use the valuable time to get the Stone.

"Wonderful!" laughed Quirrell. He was in such a good mood, he forgot he was angry with Hagrid and his Firewhisky lay smashed in the floor. Springing to his feet, he paced the room, mind buzzing as he laid down his plan.

The strike would be on Halloween night. He would not fail.

**Author's Note: **Hoped you guys liked that.


	2. A Troll

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. So sue me.

**Author's Note: **Here's an update. Hope you like it, people. I apologize for all canon mistakes made here. All timeline, sequence of events and article errors are entirely my fault. And for the sake of creative license, I've added some new bits and events into the canon. My apologies for any confusion caused.

And oh yes, I can't recall the exact troll scene from the books (I don't have books 1-4) so I'm using a modified one from the Warner Bros. movie.

_31__st__ August, 1991_

Harry Potter had had the most exciting time of his life. First of all, he had discovered barely a week ago that he was a wizard. Then Hagrid had taken him, far away from his miserable existence with the Dursleys into his brand-new, glorious existence. Why, it seemed almost laughable that two weeks ago, he was dreading school and having to wear Dudley's cast-off pieces of elephant skin, the prospect of the rest of his life spent stuck in the cupboard under the stairs… And now, he was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in a bright scarlet train from a platform that supposedly never existed…

It was almost…_magical._

Of course, there was the matter of how he was being treated. For the first 11 years of his life, he was treated with disdain and hostility by the Dursleys. His schoolmates were the same, thanks to the malign influence and bullying of his cousin. Here, in the world o magic, he was a hero. Strangers in the streets stopped to shake his hand. There were books which mentioned his name. Rooms of people cheered whenever he entered. And as always, he could feel their eyes perform the same flicking action, upwards to his forehead, to the lightning bolt-shaped scar which remained etched there.

Harry was interrupted in his musings by the grating sound of the compartment door and his new-found friend, Ron Weasley, entered with two pumpkin pasties and a small paper bag dangling from one hand.

"Hey, Harry," he grinned. "I got us some more stuff from the trolley."

He handed the pasty to Harry, and threw himself into the seat opposite.

Harry looked at him from over his pasty. It was a good thing he had met Ron when he did at the station, especially after embarrassing himself like that, asking the Muggle stationmaster where was Platform 9 ¾. As was everyone else, Ron was in awe of him and his scar.

But there was someone else also on his mind.

Earlier, after he and Ron had settled into the compartment, a girl had bustled in, searching for a toad.

She was completely unlike any of the other girls he had encountered before. She had asked the two dumbfounded boys whether they had seen a toad, told them how excited she was about going to Hogwarts and that she was Muggleborn, asked them why hadn't they gotten changed into their robes and introduced herself, all in one breath.

Even more bewildering, she had interrupted his own introductions, informing him who he was and telling him that he was mentioned in some books she had read.

It was enough to cow a lesser boy.

Harry frowned as he tried to remember her name. It was unusual enough…

"Hermione?!"

His head snapped up as a brown, bushy-haired head popped in, wearing a disapproving look on its face,

"The train is reaching Hogwarts in about ten minutes," she informed them peevishly. "And you two haven't changed into your robes yet."

The two boys began rummaging in their trunks as the head withdrew. "God, she acts like she's already swallowed whole…I don't know, a book about Hogwarts or something like that!"

"I heard that. For your information, it's called 'Hogwarts: A History'," came a voice from outside.

Ron groaned audibly as Harry suppressed a laugh. These two seemed destined for conflict.

But he had sensed something about Hermione that betrayed her bossy exterior.

_October 31__st__, 1991_

Two months had passed since that first journey on the train and Harry was more or less settled into his new school life. Ron was now his closest friend, though he had made many others such as the Gryffindors. He had been welcomed into the house with open arms, though with not a little bit of chatter and the gradually familiar sight of people craning their necks to get a glimpse of his scar. Automatically, his hand went to his forehead and smoothed his fringe.

As he had predicted, Hermione Granger had been a big hit with the teachers and an equally unpopular addition to the Gryffindor first-years. Ron had groaned again beside him when the Sorting Hat had announced, "_Gryffindor!_".

Until now, Harry didn't know what to make of her. Outwardly bossy and unfriendly, her nose constantly buried in a book, Hermione had more that once almost blinded him when her hand shot up in class to answer questions from the professors. The other students had been quicker to pass judgment, shunning her completely. Ron had called her a 'know-it-all' more than once.

Her reaction had surprised him. If, Harry reasoned, she was truly a bookworm who cared nothing for anything else but her grades, Hermione's status as a social pariah would have not fazed her in the least. Instead, she now spent a lot of her time crying in the girls' toilets.

Harry glanced around, a little guiltily. It was already halfway through Halloween dinner and Hermione was nowhere in sight. He hadn't seen her, not since Ron sent her off, in tears, after Charms class.

Evidently, Ron felt the same way, for he put down his fork and knife and leaned over the table.

"Seamus, where's Hermione?"

"The toilet, as usual. Parvati says she's been there all afternoon, crying her eyes out."

Harry and Ron exchanged guilty looks.

Harry opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall burst open with a crash.

Professor Quirrell stood framed there, his face a ghastly shade of white. "T-Troll! In the dun - dungeons!" he cried.

As one, the teachers rose to their feet. There was chaos in the Hall as students chattered and quite a few small screams echoed. Harry was vaguely aware of Professor McGonagall's voice over the din, gathering her house together to take them back to their dormitory.

A little later, he and Ron were making their way up the spiral staircase under the guidance of Percy, Ron's fifth-year Prefect older brother when the thought struck him.

He stopped and pulled Ron's arm.

"What?" he asked.

"Hermione. She doesn't know about the troll."

"Oh blimey," Ron shifted uncomfortably.

Harry turned and looked around, making sure Percy was well out of the way. Once he was distracted with a pair of girls, he and Ron took off down the corridor, almost flying to the third-floor girls' toilets.

They were barely a hundred feet away from the door when the two boys froze. A path of devastation, with upturned suits of armour, broken torch brackets and furniture greeted them, leading straight into the girls' bathroom.

"Oh blimey," muttered Ron again, his face a little pale.

As if an answer to him, a piercing scream filled the air. Hermione.

Harry needed no hesitation, sprinting into the toilet, Ron close by. The troll was a massive grayish-green creature, its head brushing the ceiling. In its stubby right hand, it wielded a crude and roughly-hewn club which it was using to decimate the row of sinks under which Hermione was crouching, terrified.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, mind racing.

"Help me!" she shouted back, cowering against the wall as the club swept down again.

Without a thought, he flung himself onto the club before it could begin another deadly arc. The rough wood provided a good grip for his fingers, and Harry clung on grimly. The troll gave a grunt of surprise at the extra weight on his weapon and made an attempt to shake it off.

The world flashed before Harry's eyes as the brute swung the club around. "Hang on, Harry!" yelled Ron, eyes darting around in search of a weapon he could use. Finally, the troll grew tired and Harry took advantage of it to hop onto the troll's shoulders.

The troll screwed up its piggy eyes, tiny brain struggling to comprehend where the boy had gone when a bit of rubble bounced off its back.

"Hey! Over here!" yelled Ron, chucking a length of broken plank at it. With a bellow, the troll brought the club down with a terrific crash on the spot Ron had been standing.

Harry had a sudden flash of inspiration and jammed his wand up the troll's nose. "Eeeuw," he said under his breath. It worked. The troll lost interest in flattening Ron and roared loudly, scrabbling at its own face with its hand.

On ground level, Ron had also been hit with an idea. Whipping out his wand, he cried, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The club was wrenched out of the troll's grip and hovered precariously in mid-air, provoking a grunt of surprise from the creature. With a look of glee, Ron flicked his wand downwards.

The club fell, connecting with the troll's cranium with an audible clunk. It swayed back and forth, Harry struggling to maintain his hold and finally crashed down face first. Harry rolled off its broad back, unharmed.

Ron stood there, in a trance, at the felled behemoth. Hermione was still crouched against the wall, similarly transfixed and Harry ran over to her, offering his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his eyes as he helped her to her feet.

"I guess so," she replied a little awkwardly. For the first time, Harry saw none of the arrogance and confidence she had been projecting.

The bookworm had been a front.

They were interrupted by a sound at the doorway.

"Oh my goodness!" said Professor McGonagall weakly, clutching the ruined doorframe as Professors Snape and Quirrell drew level with her, Quirrell looking pale and Snape furious. "Potter, Weasley, Granger…are you hurt?"

They shook their heads furiously. Harry's mind raced as the reality of the situation sank in. He would be expelled, banished back to the lonely cupboard and the Dursleys. How would he explain this? Ron caught his gaze, the pallor of his face showing thoughts mirroring his own.

"Explain yourselves, the both of you," said their housemistress sternly, glancing at the both of them in turns.

They took a deep breath, and began talking.

"Well, we – "

"We just – "

"It's my fault, Professor. They were looking for _**me**_."

Hermione's voice cut in over Harry and Ron's hesitant explanations and every face in the room swiveled to her.

"Hermione – ?" said Ron weakly.

"Miss Granger, what are you saying?" Professor McGonagall looked as though she was seeing Hermione for the first time.

"I – I went looking for it. You see, I'd…read about them in the library and I wanted to catch one." She paused to stare at the recumbent creature. "I'd be dead if Harry and Ron hadn't come looking for me."

To her credit, Professor McGonagall recovered quickly. "Miss Granger," she spluttered, "What were you thinking? Such utter foolishness! I am deeply disappointed in you. Ten points from Gryffindor for plain idiocy!"

Harry saw Hermione hang her head, face burning with shame.

"And the two of you – !"

Harry and Ron's focus snapped back to her, awaiting her fury.

"Ten points each…to Gryffindor, for sheer dumb luck. There was no way three first-years could have taken on a fully-grown mountain troll – let alone one – "and she cast a significant glance at Hermione – " and all of you will not be as lucky next time."

She swept out imperiously. Snape followed, a sour look on his face, most likely because Harry had not gotten expelled. But no one noticed Quirrell's features twist into a horrible snarl of frustration before it regained its regular appearance.

As he walked back up to Gryffindor tower, Harry felt that things were going to change.

**Author's Note: **I'm afraid that future updates won't be as fast. I just happened to have the time this weekend to write another chapter but I'll try my best .


	3. Freedom

**Disclaimer: **I own absolutely nothing. Whoopee.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for long break. At least I got plenty of time to write now. To try and make up for the long, long delay in updating, here's an extra long installment. Enjoy.

************************************************************************

_6th June, 1993_

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger dashed along the corridor of the silent school, breathing hard.

Harry was still struggling to wrap his brain around the fact that they had just gone back in time.

The gold glint of the Time-Turner around Hermione's neck as she tucked it underneath her robes was the only thing which was convincing him that this was no dream.

They were going to rescue Sirius. His godfather.

He allowed himself the satisfaction of a small smile as they rounded the corner into the school courtyard.

_I'm not the only on_e _in the world. I have…family that really cares about me._

For some reason, the thought brought him back to the real world and Hermione.

"Harry? Are you alright?" She was looking directly at him, concern written all over her face. The permanent dark circles around her eyes, etched there by her massive workload through the school year drew his attention and he felt guilty, as though he had been the cause for them.

He blinked twice, and then smiled. "I'm OK."

Hermione nodded, and then took his hand, pulling him out of sight under the wall surrounding Hagrid's hut.

Buckbeak was tethered to the stile, idly munching on a dead ferret taken from the pile Hagrid had thoughtfully provided. The two teenagers bowed, a gesture which the Hippogriff returned and they began fumbling with the chains.

"Hurry up," moaned Hermione, tugging on the chain. "We're about to come out."

At last, the link came loose and Harry yanked on the chain, leading Buckbeak into the Forest.

Hagrid's voice floated across to where they were standing and the Hippogriff dug its claws into the ground, not wanting to leave its master.

"We don't have time for this, Buckbeak," grunted Harry through gritted teeth. He was careful not to say anything insulted else risk being slashed open by one of those deadly talons. "We need to go now."

Just as Harry and Hermione managed to get Buckbeak under the cover of the undergrowth, Malfoy, Macnair and Dumbledore appeared, walking down to Hagrid's hut. At the same time, the back door flew open and the Harry, Hermione and Ron of three hours before slipped out, concealing themselves behind the low wall where Buckbeak had previously been tethered.

"That was a close one," sighed Hermione in relief, brushing some loose strands of hair away from her forehead. "Are we seriously going to stay here and watch?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "This could be interesting."

They watched in silence as the four men came out of the hut to find an empty spot where the Hippogriff had been. It turned out that the swish of the axe they had thought to be the fatal chop had been aimed at the fence in anger by the executioner and Hagrid's sobs were of joy.

They continued to watch as Sirius in his black dog form seized Ron and dragged him towards the Whomping Willow, closely followed by past Harry and Hermione, who then battled the tree. At length, Crookshanks appeared and hit the knot, letting both of them get into the opening.

"Now what? We wait?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded and sat down, bringing her knees up to her chin.

He settled down on the carpet of dead leaves littering the ground, back resting against a nearby tree. In the distance, the dark figure of Snape entered the secret passageway underneath the Whomping Willow.

"Hermione?"

She turned her head slightly to look at him and he patted the spot on his left. "Come sit here and lean against the tree, you look tired."

"Thanks."

Strangely enough, the conflicting thoughts that had been filling Harry's mind without him realizing subsided and he felt calm when she sat beside him. The two relaxed a little, staring out into the inky blackness of the night.

"Your hand…The bandage is loose." Harry broke the comfortable silence, brow furrowed with concern for Hermione.

She had been cut by the Whomping Willow earlier and during her exertions in moving Buckbeak, the dressing had come loose. Hermione unwound it and was about to retie it when a gentle pair of hands stopped her.

"Let me do it," said Harry softly. The concerned expression had not left his face for even a second as his fingers deftly rewrapped the wound and tucked away the loose ends of the bandage. She watched, fascinated by them, moving swiftly and yet so tenderly, mindful not to cause her any pain.

"Thank you, Harry," He had not let go of her hand and the soothing warmth meant Hermione was in no hurry to remove it. She sensed that Harry had something on his mind he wanted to talk about and she waited.

"Just now, Sirius…he asked me to come live with him when it was all over and we turned Pettigrew over to the Ministry."

She beamed at him. "Harry, that's great."

"Yeah…imagine? No more Dursleys. One day, when that rat Pettigrew is put away, I can go live with him, I bet he's got a nice house, somewhere you can see the stars at night."

His face was transformed, alight with hope and anticipation, emotions she did not normally see in her best friend's face. The scar which marked him had also aged him far beyond his thirteen years, saddling a heavy burden on his yet-too-young shoulders. The thought made her squeeze his hand with her own good one.

Then his face changed again, as though a curtain had fallen and it visibly darkened.

"I'm sorry."

"What? For what?"

He glanced apologetically at her. "I'm sorry…for not being a very good friend this whole year. You must have had…a tough time coping with all that work."

Hermione's face softened. "You don't have to apologize for that."

"It's something I feel I should do."

Piercing green eyes met brown. An understanding passed between them and there was no further need for words.

Again, he broke the silence.

"At the lake…did you see what saved us?"

She stared intently at him and was forced to shake her head. "Someone conjured a Patronus just as the Dementors were about to attack us. I know it sounds insane but…I think it was my dad."

Silence descended and Hermione turned her most understanding gaze on him.

"Harry…your dad's…well, he's dead," she said quietly.

The faint light of hope that had returned to his eyes flickered out, and then reignited. "I'm sure of what I saw. My dad saved us. I know it."

She fell silent, knowing better than to argue with him.

_I know what I saw, _thought Harry fiercely. _It sounds crazy, but it seemed so real…_

A noise at the Whomping Willow alerted the two teenagers and they sprang to their feet, careful to stay hidden.

"It's time."

They got closer to the scene and the cacophony of voices grew louder. Just then, the full moon moved out from behind the cloud cover and a figure who was unmistakably Lupin began to shake.

"This is surreal," muttered Hermione, hearing her own voice warning the others to stay clear of the transforming werewolf. While the people of the past were entirely focused on Lupin's transformation, the Harry of the future only had eyes for the short man chained to Lupin.

Hermione was able to tear her eyes away from the scene to follow his gaze and quickly worked out his line of thinking. "Harry, no. Don't even think about it. It would disrupt the time stream," she warned sharply.

"If I could just grab him before he gets away…" His voice tailed away.

Harry did the only thing he could do: nothing, forcing himself to watch as Pettigrew transformed into a rat and vanished into the night, his fists clenched so hard the knuckles turned white. She knew how painful it was for him to watch as his chance of happiness with Sirius disappeared right before him and she placed a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, grateful for her sympathy.

"They're going into the Forest," Harry said, suddenly tense. He and Hermione darted after the past Harry, Hermione, Sirius and werewolf Lupin, keeping a safe distance. The forest was treacherous, however, and they soon lost sight of them.

By the time Harry and Hermione had managed to catch up, the Hermione and Sirius of the past were lying sprawled in a clearing, surrounded by menacing Dementors. Only Harry was awake, propped up on his arms protectively before the motionless pair, desperately trying to summon a Patronus.

"_Expecto…Expecto Patronum." _Harry gasped out the spell, and a feeble white wisp emerged from the end of his wand.

"No…_Expec-Expecto Patronum,"_ Another unsubstantial wisp joined the first and was dispelled by a movement from the lead Dementor's hand.

On the side, the future Harry and Hermione stood rooted by the scene. Harry's eyes darted left and right, expecting the saviour to appear soon.

"No one's coming, Harry," breathed Hermione, white with terror at the horrifying spectacle.

Abruptly Harry leapt forward. He knew what he must do, and frantically searched his mind for any happy memory. Instantly, the memory of Hermione's face after he slew the Basilisk last year unexpectedly filled his mind.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he bellowed.

A large silver shape erupted from the end of his wand and galloped towards the Dementors, breaking their ranks and scattering them before returning to him.

It was a silver stag.

Harry put out a trembling hand to touch the silver muzzle and it evaporated. Realizing who his saviour was, he returned to Hermione, body shaking with relief.

"Harry, I can't believe it! You just performed a Patronus Charm, that's very advanced magic…"

"Yeah," he grinned, putting his wand back into his pocket.

A rustling from the trees at the far end startled them both. They managed to conceal themselves just as a rather dazed Snape appeared and began conjuring stretchers to transport the unconscious Harry, Hermione and Sirius back to the castle.

"Come on," said Harry, taking Hermione's hand and dashing deeper into the undergrowth. "The night's not over yet, we still need to save Sirius."

They travelled quickly, eventually reaching the spot where they had left Buckbeak.

Without the slightest hesitation, he climbed onto Buckbeak's back and pulled Hermione on behind him.

"Harry," began Hermione nervously, "Are you sure about this? I really don't like flying…"

"It's the fastest way," he answered, kicking the hippogriff's sides and causing it to spread its massive wings, taking off into the night sky. Hermione squeaked, gripping his waist tightly.

Within minutes, they had reached the room where Sirius had been locked in and kicked open the window.

"But…how…" protested Sirius weakly, as Harry and Hermione helped him climb on Buckbeak's back.

"There's no time, you've both got to go," hissed Harry urgently. "GO!"

Sirius was silent for a few moments. "You truly are your father's son, Harry." His gaze rested on Hermione's face. "Thank you for your help, young lady." Squeezing the hippogriff's sides, the pair took off into the night. Harry and Hermione watched them go until they were no more than a speck framed against the round moon.

Hermione fished out her Time-Turner and inspected it. "Harry, we need to get back to the Hospital Wing now!"

He tore his eyes away from the sky and followed her, the two sprinting through the empty hallways up to the Wing. Dumbledore stood there, addressing some unseen people through the heavy oak door.

He turned on hearing their footsteps and smiled.

"Well?"

"We did it, Professor. They're both gone, Sirius and Buckbeak." Harry ran a hand through his hair, pushing the unruly bangs from his forehead.

The Headmaster's grin widened. "Excellent. I think you both have gone too. Now go back in and have a rest. I think there will indeed be an uproar when they find out Sirius is gone."

He held the door open just wide enough for them to slip past and shut it, heavy bolts clanking and sliding into place behind them.

No sooner than when they had got into their beds, Madam Pomfrey came out in a foul mood, bustling around the still unconscious Ron. Harry waited impatiently for the matron to leave. At last, she hustled out of the room.

"Hermione," he called.

"Harry?"

"…Thanks for being there. For me."

The angle of the beds meant he could not see her face in the few beams of moonlight that streamed in through the window. But he knew she was smiling.

**Author's Note: **And that's the latest update.


	4. Accio

**Disclaimer: **Most sadly, I don't own any of the characters.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for delay in updating, would have gotten this up sooner if not for a thing called senior prom… Ah well, hope you enjoy.

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_June 9__th__, 1994_

"Harry, focus," said Hermione in exasperation. "Concentrate on summoning the target. Try again."

Harry gritted his teeth and held his wand at the ready. "**Accio**__cactus!"

The potted cactus twitched a bit, the needles aquiver but nothing else came of it.

"Damn!" He swore, fixing the offending plant with a death glare and then throwing himself down in frustration on an empty desk.

Ron glanced over idly from the other corner of the deserted classroom the trio were using to help Harry prepare for the Third Task.

"Relax, mate," he called, "maybe you'd like to Reducto the cactus or something? Make you feel better…"

Harry smiled at that. Meanwhile, Hermione just looked peeved, placing her hands on her hips.

"Ron! This is no time to fool around! The Third Task is in a few weeks and Harry needs to master this Summoning Charm!" She brandished a ragged parchment at him which was partially covered with horizontal lines. "We're behind schedule as it is and I don't need you to tell Harry what to practice."

He snorted.

"Well, since you're so keen on helping…" Hermione consulted the parchment, jotting down notes at odd intervals with the quill she kept tucked behind her ear, "…you can help Harry practice his Stunning spells." She glanced up at Harry. "You are quite weak in those, you know."

He turned his attention to her from where it had been captivated by some students on brooms outside, playing an impromptu game of Quidditch.

"Sorry Hermione, I didn't catch that," he apologized.

"I said, practice your Stunning spells on Ron and me. Ron, go and get the cushions out of the cupboard, please."

He ignored her, eyes fixed on the figures soaring overhead, tossing the Quaffle between them.

"The Keeper's way out to the left, he should be circling the hoops."

Harry looked over at Ron, then back at the players. "He's fine, he's taking the defensive. The Chasers, on the other hand…"

"Boys," grumbled Hermione. Getting up from her seat, she went and got the cushions herself, tossing them to the stone floor.

"Harry, Ron. Come on."

They obediently peeled themselves from the game outside and walked over to where the cushions were spread out over the floor.

Ron pulled a face.

"Ugh, I hate being Stunned. I always miss the cushions."

"Ron, you really should try to aim for the cushions." Hermione straightened up from where she had been arranging the mass and shot him a pointed glare.

"Well, you can't really aim that well when you've been Stunned, Hermione," retorted Ron testily.

Harry stood silently by, automatically becoming part of the background as he usually did whenever his two best friends bickered.

"Enough of this, Ronald Weasley," snapped Hermione, marching in front of the cushions so she stood directly between them and Harry. He followed her, standing to her right, in a cloud of sullen indignation.

"Ready when you are, Harry."

Before Harry could raise his wand, there was a knock at the door and Professor McGonagall peeked in.

"Sorry to disturb your practice, Mr. Potter, but I need to see Mr. Weasley for a while."

Ron shrugged, unconcerned. "See you later, mate."

Harry simply nodded.

As the door clicked shut behind the both of them, Harry pointed his wand at the cactus again. "**Accio**__cactus!"

Like before, the arms of the plant twitched.

With a growl of frustration, Harry sat down on one of the cushions littering the floor, brow furrowed.

Hermione sat down quietly next to him, sensing his foul mood.

_He'll talk when he wants to._

"This is hopeless," stormed Harry. "I can't even master a simple spell like this damn Summoning Charm. How am I going to survive this task? I haven't got a chance against all those other experienced champions."

"You did fine for the first two tasks. You're even tied with Cedric for the lead – "

He whirled on her, green eyes flashing. "I had help. Moody, Cedric, Dobby all helped me and I wouldn't have made it this far without them. Let's face it, Hermione…" He picked up the parchment by one ragged end. "…this is useless." Harry crumpled it up and tossed it away from him contemptuously.

Harry had made a big mistake. Glowering, Hermione got to her feet. "If that's the way you feel, fine. Withdraw from the Tournament."

"I never meant that – "

"Then what did you mean?" she asked pointedly.

Harry looked away, unable to meet her glare. "I meant… I'm sorry, Hermione. I know you're just trying to help me."

Immediately she softened, settling herself beside him again.

_Damn it, I should still be mad with him... but I can't bring myself to. For some reason._

While Hermione was mentally cursing her soft spot for Harry, he got to his feet to retrieve the crumpled parchment, smoothing it out.

"I'm sorry about this," he mumbled, holding out the parchment to her. A faint blush coloured his cheeks. "I guess I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

She took it from him silently, knowing that if she snapped at him, it would make things worse. "Well, no real damage done." Hermione smiled, trying to alleviate the tense atmosphere that had settled around the two teenagers.

"Yeah, but that's no excuse." He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his arms on them. For the briefest of moments, Hermione debated on whether she should touch him. In the end, her mind won. She said nothing.

The young witch had quite a soft spot for Harry, her best friend. That was undeniable, even for her and quite acceptable, given the trials they had overcome together. But even now, as they spent more time together than ever, preparing him for the rigours of the Triwizard Tournament, she was developing other feelings for him. It didn't help that Ron was absent from the picture a lot of the time, a victim of many circumstances. Hermione knew he saw her as more than a friend. It didn't help at all that she didn't return his feelings.

_Get a grip on yourself, Granger! Harry treats you as a friend! And he's depending on you to help him survive this Tournament!_

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you… feeling better now?"

He turned his gaze on her, his eyes filled with a multitude of emotions. Their eyes met, and Harry blinked. "I think so." He got to his feet in one languid motion and automatically extended his hand to help her up.

Taking his hand, Hermione stood up and surprising even herself, squeezed it.

"Don't worry. Everything will turn out fine," she whispered, smiling at him.

He looked startled for a moment, before returning the smile. "Thanks." Their fingers remained entwined for a heartbeat…

The door clicked open and the two teenagers jumped. Hermione quickly broke the contact.

"Hey. Sorry about that. McGonagall was on my case about the last Transfiguration essay I did." Ron strolled in and settled down on the cushions. "Did I miss anything?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. Ron completely missed the significant look which passed between them.

"No, Ron." Hermione walked over to where she had stashed her quill and whipping out the parchment, started scribbling on it again.

Harry still looked a little confused from what had transpired. Like a reflex action, he took out his wand and pointed it at the cactus.

"**Accio**__cactus!"

Much to everyone's surprise, the cactus twitched, and soared gracefully in a wide arc towards Harry's head. He ducked and it smashed against the wall behind him.

Ron was the first to react.

"You did it, mate!" he cheered, coming over to slap him on the back.

"Well done, Harry," said Hermione quietly.

Harry allowed himself a faint grin. It seemed like things were finally looking up.

**Author's Note: **Until next week.


	5. The Kiss

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I don't own anything. J.K. Rowling does and that's why she's filthy rich. I survive on a pittance of an allowance.

**Author's Note: **After suffering from horrible writer's block for this segment of the story, inspiration finally struck. The plot's a little slow, but bear with me. It gets better (I hope).

************************************************************************

_June 18__th__,1995_

Harry sat alone in his favourite squashy red armchair by the fire, a book lying open in his lap, forgotten. The reflection of the firelight danced in his eyes as he contemplated the flames, lost in his thoughts.

Sirius was dead.

It was all his fault.

Guilt clawed at his insides. If only he had listened to Hermione when she suspected it was a trap, him and his 'saving-people' thing.

Ironically, Sirius had died trying to save him.

It weighed even more heavily on his conscience that all his friends, whom he had dragged along on his suicidal mission, had been injured in some way.

At that point, Harry realized he had been clenching his fists, digging his fingernails into the flesh until he drew blood. Relaxing his grip, he squeezed the sides of his wounds, watching the blood ooze out. It stung slightly.

"I have to apologise," he murmured to himself, rising and wiping the blood off on his pants. Harry left quietly through the portrait hole, not noticing the ripple that spread through the students as he went.

Mercifully, the short walk to the Hospital Wing was devoid of other students, something Harry was glad for. The news of his latest exploit was sure to be on their lips and he had no interest in being the subject of their stares and whispers.

The heavy oak door was ajar when he arrived. Harry paused outside, unsure of whether to enter.

Slowly, his fingers curled around the brass door handle and pulled it open a little wider.

Hermione was sitting up in bed, reading as usual. A small smile came to his face. She had not noticed him come in.

"Hermione."

She looked up, her face brightening. "Harry! What are you doing here?"

He crossed the room over to her bedside, ignoring the question. A curtain was pulled around Ron's bed, hiding him from view. Hermione followed his gaze and immediately anticipated his next words.

"Ron's sleeping, Madam Pomfrey just gave him a Sleeping Draught."

Nodding, he perched himself on the edge of the bed once Hermione had shifted her legs to the side to give him some space.

As she moved, the collar of the plain pyjamas she wore was pulled away slightly, revealing the top of the white bandages wrapped around her torso. Harry's eyes were drawn to the flash of white.

_A whine of panic inside his head was preventing him thinking properly: he had one hand on Hermione's shoulder which was still warm, yet did not dare look at her properly. __**Don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead…**_

"Harry?"

He gave a start. Hermione was staring at him, her brown eyes filled with concern.

"What's wrong?"

With a supreme effort of will, Harry banished the memory to the darkest recesses of his mind. He forced a smile, meeting her gaze directly. "Nothing."

Harry knew he couldn't evade her for long. She was, after all, the smartest witch of her generation. Even as his answer escaped his lips, he could practically see the gears of her brain whirring.

"You can tell me, Harry." Her voice was gentle, willing him to open up. It carried greater implications for him than the request normally entailed, given he had kept to himself for most of the year.

Harry had refused to unburden the guilt and regret he had felt over the events after the Triwizard Tournament last year, Cedric's death, the rebirth of Voldemort and the role he had played in both. The isolation he had subsequently endured during the summer holidays only worsened the feelings of resentment he had been nurturing towards everyone. The end result had been his outburst at Ron and Hermione, his two best friends.

On reflection, it had not helped relieve his anger. Rather, it added to his guilt.

Harry's long silence had not fazed Hermione in the slightest. Patiently, she waited, knowing he would say something as he always did.

He looked back at her, flushing slightly when he realized she had been staring at him all this while.

"How's…your wound?" he asked. It was a feeble attempt at changing the subject and Harry knew she knew.

Hermione looked down instinctively and colour tinged her cheeks as well.

"It's almost healed," she said, pulling the fabric of her pyjamas over the exposed bandages self-consciously. "Though it hurts a little to move."

Harry nodded.

The sudden memory of Hermione being at his side through the past five years of adventures came to mind, triggered by this latest injury he had indirectly caused her. Ice filled his insides as it dawned on him: Hermione had always suffered because of him. She got herself almost killed by the troll in their first year, Petrified in second year, beaten and bruised in third year, ostracized in fourth and now this.

"How's…how's Ron?" he muttered, jerking a hand in the curtain's vague direction.

"Not much change since yesterday. Madam Pomfrey said the worst of the scars should be gone after a few more days."

"…Oh."

An awkward silence descended and Harry suddenly became very interested in the view from the window behind Hermione's head. He could see something moving in the middle of the lake and idly wondered whether it was the Giant Squid. Marshalling his scattered thoughts, he plucked up the courage to speak.

"I'm…sorry, Hermione," he said abruptly. "For everything."

"Harry…"

He looked away, not daring to meet her eyes again for fear he might revert to form when she became angry, keeping his mouth shut.

_It's time for the long-overdue apology she deserves._

"I realize…that you've always been hurt in some way just because you were with me. I'm sorry for that. I never wanted to hurt you."

Something flickered in Hermione's eyes.

"I never wanted to involve anyone in my own problems," continued Harry. "You and Ron are my best friends, the first real friends I ever had in my life and I appreciate that. I don't ever want to see anything happen to you." His voice shook slightly from the emotion behind his words.

She watched him, not trusting herself to respond coherently.

"I…was so scared when you…_fell_. I thought you'd died…" He trailed off, not bothering to finish the sentence.

"It's not your fault, Harry," said Hermione quietly.

"Yes, it is," he snapped, beating his clenched fist on the bedclothes, angry green eyes raised to hers in challenge. She stared back, unfazed. "I should have listened to you! We wouldn't have gone to the Ministry, you, Ron and the others wouldn't have gotten hurt, Sirius –"

Harry stopped short, a stab of pain lancing through his heart. The loss of his godfather was still raw and hard to believe. He was dimly aware of Hermione's hand on his shoulder as though he was detached from his body.

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch._

_Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place._

Much to Harry's embarrassment, he felt tears prick at his eyes: he furiously rubbed them away with the back of his hand.

"Oh, Harry."

Impulsively, Hermione bent forward and threw her arms around him.

He was astonished at first to feel the weight of her body against his, hands automatically wrapping around Hermione's waist in response, mindful of her upper body.

The embrace seemed to last for an eternity. He could feel Hermione's breath against the naked skin of his neck, her head resting in the crook of his neck and Harry's heart began racing in his chest.

It somehow felt right, something which was lacking when he was with Cho. Conflicting feelings arose within Harry as he struggled to comprehend why.

Eventually, they parted. Hermione blushed furiously, looking away from him while Harry's gaze remained focused on her.

"Thank you." Inwardly, he wondered why his voice seemed to be coming from far away.

"You're welcome."

Hermione finally contented herself with looking down at her hands. Harry stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. Fascinated, his eyes traveled from her bushy hair, to her slightly upturned nose, her soft brown eyes.

He placed a gentle hand against her cheek.

Hermione started, looking up at him, meeting his intent green gaze.

Without thinking, Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Heat exploded in his face and radiated outwards from there. Feeling as though his heart would beat itself out of his chest, Harry's other hand went to her hair, running his fingers through the loose strands as he tried to get closer to her. Hermione responded, and he felt her fingers around his neck as she kissed him back. Excitement growing, Harry deepened the kiss, licking the outside of Hermione's lips. He was much surprised to feel them part, allowing him access.

Finally, lungs screaming for air, they broke apart, gasping. Harry and Hermione's fingers remained entwined in the space between them as the enormity of what they had done sank in on the two teenagers.

"Hermione?"

To his horror, Harry noticed unshed tears sparkling in her eyes and his elation rapidly disappeared. He looked past her and the pit of his stomach fell away.

Ron.

How could he have been so foolish? It was obvious Ron liked Hermione. With that simple kiss, he had complicated matters. Suddenly, a flash of anger rose into his throat and he didn't care any more. It had felt right to be kissing Hermione. Taking a deep breath, he crossed beyond the boundaries of their friendship.

"I like you."

Hermione bit her lip, a tear running down her cheek. He reached out, wiping it away with a callused thumb. He noticed her eyes flick to the curtain behind him and the surge of adrenaline which had been pumping through his body evaporated. All Harry wanted was to sleep, to try and forget anything had ever happened. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and rose.

"I'm sorry. I…I should go. I'll visit you and Ron tomorrow."

She made no acknowledgement whatsoever and Harry felt a slight pang of disappointment which he quashed. He had been too impulsive, overstepping the mark in acting without thinking as he did.

Harry left the Hospital Wing without looking back once. Letting a sigh of exasperation escape his lips, he angrily ran a hand through his hair, making it wilder and more unruly than usual.

In his mind, he cursed himself for being so blind. While he chased after Cho, he had ignored the girl who had been at his side since the very beginning. How could he not have noticed the woman Hermione had blossomed into? With a spike of jealousy, he remembered Viktor Krum. Harry hadn't understood his dislike for the young man…until now. He had been jealous of Krum simply because he could see something Harry could not. He had looked past the girl and saw the woman, treating her as she deserved.

Now she was torn between her two best friends. A wry smile appeared on Harry's face as he grimly contemplated the situation.

How could something that felt so right be so horribly wrong?

Without being aware of his surroundings, Harry found himself back outside the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady looked down at him from her portrait and yawned widely.

"Password, dear?"

"Forthright."

She swung forward almost lazily and Harry clambered through. Only Neville was in the Common Room, poring over a book in the same armchair Harry had occupied a few hours ago.

Neville looked up, smiling but Harry merely looked past him, into the roaring fire before climbing up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory and vanishing.

Exhaustion overwhelmed him suddenly and he collapsed into his bed, fully clothed. However, it was a long time after the sound of Neville's gentle snores before Harry finally fell asleep.

**Author's Note: **And our favourite couple finally take a huge step forward…and backward. Sigh.


	6. Guilt

**Disclaimer: **JK Rowling owns the characters while I own nothing but the plot.

**Gandalf the Grey-Edelwiess: **I get what you're saying, but actually, I intended to explain what happened in this chapter… Your feedback is very much appreciated. 

************************************************************************

_21__st__ June, 1995_

"Finally!"

Ron grinned as he walked out of the Hospital Wing, rubbing his arms. Beside him, Hermione walked quietly, lost in thought.

He turned and shot a puzzled look at her. "Hermione? What's wrong?"

Hermione gave a start: for the briefest of instants, she heard Harry's voice, full of concern. _Harry. _A flush filled her cheeks and she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memory of their kiss.

"N – Nothing, Ron."

He continued to stare at her, unsatisfied by her weak excuse. Hermione tried another tack.

"I was just thinking about NEWTs." As she predicted, Ron made a harrumphing sound and lost interest.

"Honestly, Hermione, we'd just finished our OWLs and you start thinking about NEWTs. Trust you to have schoolwork on your mind all the time…"

She let him ramble on, her mind drifting back to the memory of the sensation of Harry's lips on hers, the feel of his hair, his hands around her waistt… Hermione felt a shudder pass through her body.

She had been totally overwhelmed and thrown off-guard that she had been unable to respond to his confession.

_Harry apologized and he left me._

Harry had not even looked back once as he left. If he had, he would have seen her call out to him, her voice too faint to be heard.

_Damn it!_

Then again, it could have been a blessing in disguise that Harry had not heard her response.

Despite having gone over it obsessively over the past three days, Hermione needed more time to analyze her feelings dispassionately, to pretend she retained some control over her heart.

Hermione was simultaneously dreading and anticipating seeing Harry later, wondering how she should behave.

_I don't want to hurt either of them…they're both my best friends…what should I do?_

Fervently, she hoped that her delay in answering Harry would not turn out to be the greatest mistake of her life.

***************************************************************************************************************

Harry was slumped in his usual chair in the Gryffindor common room, the picture of dejection. No one else was there, presumably making full use of the warm early summer sunshine outside in the castle grounds. It was fortunate, otherwise the unsuspecting students would have been unnecessarily subjected to Harry's violent temper.

_Hermione rejected me._

Her lack of a response to his bold words must certainly have been an admission that his feelings were unrequited. Hermione, being herself, must have been trying to find the words to let him down as lightly as she could without hurting his feelings too much.

_But yet…I saw something in her eyes. And the way she kissed me back…_

He had never thought her ugly. If Harry remembered rightly, he had actually told her not very long ago. However, he had the niggling suspicion that Hermione had not taken him seriously.

It saddened him, somehow, how low Hermione's self-esteem was. She needed people like Krum to bring out the beautiful young woman she didn't realize she was.

Harry knew that his female best friend was not the kind of person to be carried away by passion: this was the sole reason he wasn't giving up on her. He had spent the last three days going over the entire scene in his mind and eventually reached this conclusion.

_I'm confident she feels something for me._

His reverie was rudely interrupted by the swinging portrait door as Ron and Hermione entered the common room.

"Harry!" Ron strode over and clapped Harry heartily on the back, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry forced an identical grin onto his face, returning Ron's greeting enthusiastically.

"Good to see you out of the Hospital Wing, mate."

"Good to be out!" He threw himself down into another armchair.

Harry rose to his feet, green eyes fixed intently on Hermione, who was deliberately avoiding his gaze.

"Hermione." She heard the tones in his voice: hurt, concern and confusion mixed together.

_How is it possible for Harry to communicate so much with just one word?_

"Hi Harry." Keeping her tone neutral, she sat down in the armchair next to Ron's, keeping her gaze trained on the cold fireplace. Harry blinked, and then looked away.

"So," interjected Ron, breaking the tense silence, "since it's quite close to lunchtime, how about we go downstairs to the Great Hall now?"

Irritation flashed briefly on Harry's face.

_How can Ron think about eating at a time like this?_

Nodding, he got to his feet and the others followed.

The two boys walked ahead, conducting an animated discussion about Quidditch while Hermione lagged behind, lost in thought. She was both relieved and disappointed that Harry was pretending that the kiss had never happened.

_Where does this leave us now?_

When she thought the boys weren't looking, she glanced at Harry. There was a lull in their conversation and Harry's eyes were filled with a strange sadness she hoped she wasn't the cause of. Hermione's hopes were quickly dashed when his gaze shifted to rest squarely on her. The intense look in his emerald green eyes unsettled her but Hermione chose not to let it show, meeting it head-on.

He broke eye contact a few seconds later as Ron said something, replying earnestly. Hermione blinked, reeling from the silent duel of wills. A blush spread across her face for the second time that day and she cursed her own weakness.

_Merlin, this is not going to be easy._

***************************************************************************************************************

In the Great Hall, Harry was spared the exquisite agony of sitting next to Hermione and Ron by the enthusiastic welcomes from the other Gryffindors, glad to see them out of the Hospital Wing. It had taken relatively little to get them to sit elsewhere and join in the festivities over Umbridge's fall from power.

Harry sat alone, nobody wishing to disturb him and risk his wrath, as they had heard vaguely about the events that had transpired in the Department of Mysteries.

He was hungry, but the knots in his stomach dulled his appetite somewhat. Harry only picked listlessly at the food on his plate.

A peal of laughter from further up the table interrupted his meal and Harry looked up.

Hermione had thrown her head back in laughter over something the twins had said, her face alight with mirth, her bushy brown hair falling over her shoulders, framing her face.

Harry choked on his shepherd's pie.

Neville reached over and thumped Harry on the back as he coughed.

"You all right, mate?" he asked as Harry took deep draughts from the goblet of pumpkin juice in front of him.

"I'm fine," gasped Harry. "Thanks, Neville."

The other boy shot him a quizzical glance, then looked over at Hermione. After a while, he turned back to his lunch.

Harry was careful to keep his eyes fixed on his plate from then on.

***************************************************************************************************************

When Hermione thought Harry wasn't looking, she shot frequent glances in Harry's direction, curious in spite of herself.

Just then, Fred said something idiotic and she laughed heartily, tossing back her head. His twin, George flashed an identical grin, glad to have lightened up the serious prefect Hermione who had been dogging them relentlessly the entire school year.

She paused to recover, taking a sip of pumpkin juice and noticed Ron looking at her. There was a hungry look in his eyes, one many other girls would have longed to see. Funnily enough, Hermione felt uncomfortable with Ron's attention and pretended she didn't see him, taking a few bites of her food.

When she turned to look at Harry, she was surprised to meet Neville's eyes instead. The expression on his face was unreadable and before she could react, he looked away as though nothing was amiss.

Dismissing the strange incident, she continued looking at Harry, noting with disappointment that he was entirely focused on his plate.

…_I was kind of hoping he would be looking at me._

She wondered how she was going to handle the situation. True, Hermione had been lucky once but there would be no excuse later on. Avoiding Harry was completely out of the question: it would draw too much attention from the other students and she truly feared for her sanity if she were to only have Ron around.

_When I'm with Harry, he makes me feel…safe._

To Hermione's horror, the mere thought of Harry brought back the image of them, with their lips pressed together, the warmth in her belly spreading… There and then, she resolved not to tell anybody about it.

***************************************************************************************************************

That night, the Golden Trio sat in front of the raging fire in the hearth, talking about the year ahead.

"Voldemort may be back, but that doesn't mean Hogwarts will have to close," said Harry resolutely.

"Still, Fudge is under a lot of pressure now, since he's been denying Voldemort's return for a year now and suppressing you." Hermione's eyes were flinty, and they understood she was talking about Umbridge's iron rule. Reflexively, Harry's left hand went to the faint white letters carved on his right.

Looking over at Harry, Hermione felt a stab of sympathy for him. They had been avoiding each other all day and the strain was evident: he looked weary, much more than she had seen in a long time and she knew her own appearance wasn't much better. Ron, though consciously unaware of the underlying conflict between his two best friends, somehow knew not to pick at them both.

_I have to give him my answer. Tonight._

As if on cue, Ron yawned widely. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed." Getting to his feet, he paused halfway on the stairway. "Coming, Harry?"

Harry was about to join him when he caught a glimpse of Hermione's face out of the corner of his eye: she was looking directly at him, for the first time that day. The inscrutable look in her eyes told him she wanted to talk to him. Butterflies danced in his stomach.

_Merlin…has she made her decision?_

"Uh, not yet. I've still got some things to settle, I'll be up in a while."

Ron nodded and vanished up the stairs. No sooner was he gone, Harry turned to face Hermione fully, hope filling his green eyes.

It faded when Harry looked deep into her tear-filled eyes.

"Harry," she began, "I'm so sorry…"

***************************************************************************************************************

**Author's Note: **I love evil cliffhangers, don't you?


	7. Realization

_I'm not sure what this could mean_

_I don't think you're what you seem_

_I do admit to myself_

_That if I hurt someone else_

_Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be_

Bizarre Love Triangle ~ Frente

*******************************************************************************************************************

_Still 21__st__ June, 1995_

"Harry… I'm so sorry."

Harry's heart stopped when he heard those words.

"I understand," he cut in quickly, forcing a smile onto his face. Startled, Hermione paused, mouth agape.

"Harry – "

"You don't need to say anything else."

Hermione simply stared at him, watching his emerald eyes go blank. "But…"

He turned away from her, hiding the sadness which had stolen upon his face.

"Good night, Hermione."

Hermione stood speechless, unable to respond as she watched Harry walk away from her for the second time.

_Say something!_

He reached the foot of the stairs.

_Stop him!_

Harry was halfway up the stairs.

Finally, the spell which held her transfixed released her, and Hermione found herself running desperately after him.

"Harry!"

Brow furrowed, Harry pivoted slightly towards the sound of her voice – then let out a 'whoosh' as she flung herself at him.

His arms encircled Hermione automatically and he briefly relished the memory of their kiss, hands cradling her back. She was clutching the front of his robes, face buried in them.

"You didn't let me finish." Her voice was muffled and Harry could only just make out the words. Despite himself, he felt a tiny twinge of hope flaring in his chest.

"We weren't done?"

She raised her head and looked up at him, her normally soft brown eyes turned hard and flinty. Harry gulped. He was not used to being the target of Hermione's legendary wrath.

"As I recall, Harry James Potter, you interrupted me before I could even finish talking," she said coldly. "You merely assumed what I was going to say – "

"Are you telling me you wanted to say something more?"

Harry felt as though his soul had been split into two: one part longed to let her talk, holding on to the possibility she would actually return his feelings, Ron's face looming over the other, reminding him to consider the feelings of his best male friend.

_Am I willing to give up my own happiness for Ron's?, _Harry asked himself.

Harry knew what he had to do.

Reluctantly, he let go of Hermione and pried her hands from his robes. She offered no resistance, the cold look set in her features.

"Alright…I'm sorry. What were you trying to say?" He smiled casually, adopting a completely cool demeanor, wondering whether she could hear his heart thumping its way out of his chest.

Hermione's nerve almost failed her when she stared up into his disarmingly neutral green eyes.

"I – I…I'm sorry I didn't answer you right away."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

_No, that is NOT all, _screamed Hermione's mind.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's. A stunned look, resembling that of a deer caught in headlights, crossed his face. A moment, and then his fingers closed around hers, the smile fading from his face.

"I like you too, Harry. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you there and then. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

She stood there, breathing in and out, blood pumping in her ears. Its heady rush was making her feel giddy but Hermione didn't care.

Slowly, the smile returned to Harry's face. There was no need for words as he opened his arms to her just as she leaned in.

Not breaking their contact, Harry sat down on the steps, gently guiding Hermione down to sit. She sat on the lower step, her back to him and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his body.

"How long?" She was almost lulled to sleep by the deep feeling of contentment and safety, being in his embrace.

"Hmm?"

"…Have you liked me? Though I don't know why you would." The last words came out in a rush and she blushed crimson.

Harry pulled away from her a fraction. "I wouldn't know. You've always been there with me, at my side even if it meant being hurt." He ran a finger down the side of her face. "And what do you mean by you don't think I would like you?"

Hermione flushed deeper. "I'm not as pretty as Cho or Ginny or even Lavender and Parvati. I'm just the bookworm know-it-all with bushy hair nobody would ever find attractive." Her tone was bitter and resentful.

"I don't think I'm nobody," Harry said teasingly.

"You're my best friend, of course you wouldn't."

Harry squeezed her shoulders lightly.

_How in Merlin's name does a girl who is so loyal, brave and wonderful refuse to see herself as someone beautiful? I'll never understand girls, _thought Harry disbelievingly.

"Hermione, listen to me," he said firmly, turning her face to his with the palm of his hand. "You're as beautiful as all the other girls, if not more so."

"Harry…do you really think so?" asked Hermione, her voice wavering.

He stroked her hair, letting the silky tresses fall around his fingers. "Really."

She snuggled into him and he felt her smile into his chest. One of Harry's hands resumed its position at Hermione's waist while the other continued toying with her hair.

"Harry!" He jumped as she pulled away from him, her body stiff. "What time is it? We have lessons tomorrow!" She checked her watch and let out a gasp of horror. "It's past midnight!"

He smiled inwardly at her flustered face and rising smoothly to his feet, offered his hand to her. Hermione took it and was about to fly up to the girls' dormitories when Harry tightened his grip on her hand, refusing to release her.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry murmured, brushing his lips against her cheek and squeezing her hand affectionately. She blushed again.

Smiling at her, Harry strode up the stairs and disappeared into the boys' dormitory, leaving Hermione standing there.

_Since when is Harry so…impulsive when it comes to girls? _

Hermione shook her head, her mind already tangling with the conundrum as she entered the girls' dormitory. She was far too exhausted to bother with washing up, kicking off her shoes and outer robes and slipping into the bed still wearing her school uniform.

_And what about Ron? _

Her last conscious thought was of him before she drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

***************************************************************************************************************

_22__nd__ June, 1995_

Hermione and Harry came down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Ron walking ahead of them.

"When are we going to tell him?" she asked anxiously, casting nervous glances between her best friend and her new boyfriend. Harry's hand stole into hers and he squeezed it reassuringly.

"Today," he whispered. "Later on, when we're alone."

She stared at him, letting the comfort in his deep green eyes wash over her, and nodded at last. Harry let go of her hand, seating himself at the Gryffindor table beside Ron. The redhead was already helping himself to the bacon and eggs laid out on the table.

"Pass the kippers, would you?" Ron looked up briefly as Hermione sat down opposite him, gesturing vaguely up the table. Hermione frowned at the small mountain of food already gracing the plate in front of him.

"Haven't you got enough on your plate already, Ronald?" she asked scathingly.

He contemplated his breakfast and shrugged. "Nope."

Hermione sighed irritably and passed him the kippers.

"Morning, guys." Neville appeared at the table and sat down opposite Harry. The trio greeted him warmly, Ron's through a mouthful of food.

"The year's almost over," reflected the round-faced boy, poking at his eggs. "I don't know if they'll let us come back to Hogwarts next year, not with…all that happened."

"I hope they do," Harry remarked darkly. "I don't think I can stick being holed up at my aunt and uncle's for the whole year, the summer's bad enough…"

"Shwethycastwius," mumbled Ron indistinctly. Hermione glared at him. Chewing energetically, he swallowed and repeated himself.

"I said, see whether you can come and stay with us, mate. Maybe Dad'll pick you up in a week or two. The Burrow's a lot safer than that Muggle house, at any rate."

"That was disgusting, Ron," scolded Hermione. "Don't speak with your mouth full."

He pretended she had said nothing. "Maybe you can come too, Hermione."

Hermione made a harrumphing sound. "_Honestly_, Ronald."

A grim look came across Harry's face. "Maybe the Order will have different plans for me, like keep me cooped up somewhere like Sirius," he muttered under his breath when Neville was distracted.

Tension seeped into the atmosphere. Ron stiffened while Hermione glanced over at him sympathetically, wishing she could comfort him.

Harry stared down listlessly at his food. "I'm not hungry," he said, pushing it away.

"Harry…"

He got up from the table, walking the length of the Great Hall and slipping through the double doors.

Hermione debated internally whether to go after him when she noticed Ron staring at her.

"Let him go." Ron looked directly into her eyes. Hermione gulped, mind racing.

"W – What?"

"Maybe Harry wants to be alone. I mean, Sirius just died."

Hermione blinked.

_Since when did Ron's emotional range expand from the teaspoon?_

"Uh…okay." She sat down again.

Then Ron did something totally unexpected.

Leaning over the table, he reached out and squeezed her hand.

Colour rushed into Hermione's face as she watched his hand on hers, still in a stupefied trance.

"Don't worry about Harry, 'Mione, he'll be fine."

Just as quickly as it had happened, the moment had passed and he turned his attention back to his food again.

Hermione bit her lip.

**Author's Note: **Now that I've resolved that evil cliffie… Reviews, please, so I know what rocked, what sucked and what I ought to be killed for writing. Cheers.


	8. Confusion

**Disclaimer: **My birthday came and went without Harry arriving on my doorstep so I don't own him…yet.

**Author's Note: **This got kind of neglected because I was busy dealing with plot bunnies for my other fic in progress… apologies.

***************************************************************************************************************

_Well all I really wanna do is love you _

_A kind much closer than friends use _

_But I still can't say it after all we've been through_

_And all I really want from you is to feel me _

_As the feeling inside keeps building _

_And I will find a way to you if it kills me _

_If it kills me_

_**If It Kills Me~Jason Mraz**_

_Yes, still 22__nd__ June, 1995_

Harry stalked the corridors of the empty castle, scaring off any hapless fellow student or ghost who happened to cross his path with a single glance.

_It wasn't fair_, he thought furiously. _Sirius just fell through the veil and now…he's gone._

Hot tears welled up and he dabbed at them furiously with his sleeve. There were so many conflicting emotions swirling around his head: grief over Sirius, anger at the Ministry and the Death Eaters, guilt that he had indirectly caused his godfather's death…

The newly-discovered affection for a certain best friend of his.

Sudden warmth and light on his face surprised him. Harry found himself outside, standing by the lake. Walking over to the single gnarled oak which stood by the water and sitting down on the grass, he drew a knee to his forehead and lost himself in his thoughts.

He had spent most of the year raging at everyone, including himself and it was starting to grate on him. Betrayed as Harry was, his conscience was finally beginning to prickle.

_You can't go on like this. Especially not to Hermione._

He let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding.

_Hermione._

She was – still is – his best friend. No one else cared about him in the way she did. Sirius might have…but he was gone now. No one fussed over him, listened to him, nagged him like Hermione did.

_She deserves better than this. _The guilty little thought wormed its way into Harry's brain, intensifying the emotional burden already strapped to his shoulders.

***************************************************************************************************************

Hermione put her fork down with a clatter.

"I've had enough of this, I'm going to look for Harry," she announced.

Ron looked up from his fifth helping of blueberry cheesecake. "You seem awfully concerned about him recently," he remarked almost casually, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.

Hermione stared at him, astonishment on her face. "He's our best friend, Ronald. Why wouldn't I – or you, for that matter – be concerned about him?" she snapped.

"Oh, I know. It just seems that you're more concerned than usual. I was just saying," he interjected the last statement hastily as she narrowed her eyes.

Hermione bit her lip, unable to quell the rising whine of panic in her gut. _Is it that obvious? Does Ron know?_

"See you later."

She rose from the table and slipped out the doors.

Now the first hurdle was cleared, Hermione needed to find Harry. It was lucky that she knew him as well as she did. Hogwarts was a gigantic, sprawling castle with many passageways and rooms still unknown to even the Weasley twins and Filch.

But still…where could he have gone?

Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice the timid first-year who hovered nervously around.

"…Excuse me?"

Snapping back to reality, she gave the girl a friendly smile. "Hi. Yes?"

"You are…Hermione Granger, aren't you? Harry Potter's friend?"

Hermione felt the fleeting temptation to correct her. "Yes. Yes I am."

"Okay…if you're looking for him, he passed by not too long ago…he was heading for the lake." The girl squirmed shyly.

"Thanks," said Hermione warmly. Spinning on her heel, she headed for the main castle doors.

***************************************************************************************************************

"Hey."

Harry looked up from the dark, comforting warmth of his knees into the pair of soft brown eyes.

"Hermione?" He scooted over, giving her room to sit down next to him.

"How…how're you feeling?" He looked up curiously. She was looking anywhere but at him, wringing her hands in her lap nervously.

_She was embarrassed!_

"I've been better," he quipped wryly. Hermione made a small noise which sounded halfway between a giggle and a sob.

Harry sighed, mustering his Gryffindor courage. Twice his nerve failed him before he could force the words out. "Hermione…I've been thinking."

She looked up quizzically.

"I'm sorry."

The effect of those two words was electric. Hermione stiffened, becoming as rigid as a poker.

"For what, Harry?" Her voice was cool and toneless. Harry gulped inaudibly, wishing he had remained quiet.

"For…everything." He silently prayed she would understand. "For you having to be there for me all the time."

"Why?"

The question threw him off balance and he blinked. "I mean…you having to put up with my temper, my 'saving-people' thing and all," he faltered, seeing the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

Hermione stood up, willing herself not to cry until she had gotten away from him. "So you're sorry," she said flatly. "I'm sorry too. For thinking this could ever be possible."

Before she could turn to go, a hand caught her wrist.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Harry's voice was soothing, melting the defensive wall she had put up around her heart.

"I can't do this!" she blurted out. Hurt flashed in Harry's face and she regretted being so blunt.

"I…I can't do this," Hermione repeated softly. "Not now. You're…just trying to cope with Sirius being gone. And I'm…I can't do something like this to you now. I should be helping you cope. You're my best friend."

Harry flinched as though she had just slapped him in the face. "Is that all I am?" he asked bitterly.

"Harry, you're in no position to be getting into a relationship now! You were upset about Sirius when you kissed me!" she shot back.

Harry's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he tried to keep his rising temper in check. "Look, Hermione…" he began, running a hand through his already unruly hair. "I like you. This – _us_ – has nothing to do with Sirius. Can you stop talking about him now?"

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "Did you think it would be that easy, Harry? Tell a girl you like her and then have her fall into your arms?"

"That's not what I meant," he protested. "But last night, you said – "

"I was really confused! Out of the blue, you kissed me and you said you liked me! What am I supposed to think? What do you think I should say?"

Harry's mouth hardened. "I see. You were confused." He stepped back, his eyes flinty. "So I guess you're still confused."

Hermione bit her lip, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

"I'm going back in," said Harry coldly. "Let me know when you've sorted out your feelings."

She watched as he walked away from her again. Once he was completely gone from her vision, Hermione gave in to the tears, falling to her knees, body heaving with sobs.

***************************************************************************************************************

Harry marched up to the Astronomy Tower, the one place he was certain no one would stumble upon him there. Only one person would guess where he was, the person he was absolutely certain did not want to see him.

Once the heavy wooden door had been securely locked, Harry vented his fury, raining punches on the tables and stone walls. Although he had never used violence to express his pent-up emotions, the pain felt good.

With every punch, pain shot up his arms and Harry embraced it. Accepted it as his due punishment for his idiocy. Pain had never been a stranger in his life, thanks to the scar on his forehead, his link to Voldemort. Now more than ever, Harry willingly took it as penance for hurting the person closest to him.

He finally stopped when his muscles no longer obeyed him, letting his arms fall limply to his side. Harry's legs were the next to give way, and he slid bonelessly to the floor. He idly lifted one bruised hand and examined the tender flesh.

_This is going to hurt like hell in the morning._

As far as he was concerned, his heart hurt far more than his hands ever would.

**Author's Note: **A healthy dose of teenage angst. Will update soon.


	9. Lie

**Disclaimer: **… I own nothing. So sue me.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the late, late post… incredibly bad writer's block.

_But now it's just another show_

_You leave'em laughing when you go_

_And if you care, don't let them know_

_Don't give yourself away_

_**Both Sides Now~Judy Collins**_

Ron knew he was a bit clueless when it came to feelings. He accepted it as part of himself. But even he could sense there was something wrong with the Harry and Hermione that showed up in the Gryffindor common room that evening.

Hermione appeared first, joining the redhead and Neville in front of the fire where they were playing chess.

"Hey, Hermione." No answer. A cursory glance over at his female best friend revealed red and swollen eyes, tight mouth, pink nose: all the telltale signs she had been crying.

"Hermione? Is everything okay?" Neville had noticed, tearing his eyes away from the board to give her a concerned look.

"Yeah… I'm fine," she mumbled, staring fixedly at the chess pieces: Ron's knight was viciously hacking up what used to be Neville's castle.

"Where's Harry?" asked Ron casually, oblivious to the frantic gestures of Neville.

Hermione's lip twisted, and she stormed away, up to the girls' dormitories. Ron shrugged, looking bemusedly over at a groaning Neville.

"Really subtle, mate," muttered the dark-haired boy, clapping a hand to his forehead. "No wonder you're such a hit with the girls."

"What?" said Ron in confusion. "All I did was ask her where Harry was, I mean, they left the Great Hall together after breakfast this morning…" Neville raised an eyebrow. "Surely Hermione would know what happened to him!"

Just then, Harry came in, settling into the armchair Hermione had just vacated with a sigh. "Harry! There you are!" said Ron, much relieved. He had a nagging feeling something was going on between his two best friends and was glad for the diversion from Neville's sarcasm.

"Ron. Neville." It was obvious that Harry was not in the mood for talk. Ron's smile quickly faded from his face and his eye fell on the swollen, bruised hands in Harry's lap.

"Harry! Your hands – "

He hid them in his pockets, wincing a little. "It's nothing. I – fell down. Beat them up a little."

"D'you want me to ask Hermione for some of that potion she gave you for that detention with Umbridge?"

Neville watched Harry like a hawk, noticing how he stiffened when Hermione's name was mentioned.

"No. I'm fine," Harry asserted, his piercing green eyes looking deep into the fire. Abruptly, he got to his feet. "I'm going to bed." Before the other boys could say anything, he was gone, vanishing into the cool gloom of the boys' dormitory.

Ron exchanged looks with Neville, the chess game lying forgotten on the low table between them. "What's with them?" asked Ron, in considerable bewilderment, echoing the thoughts of the other Gryffindor boy.

_I've no clue… but I might have the slightest idea, _thought Neville.

***************************************************************************************************************

_23__rd__ June, 1995_

The next morning, Ron was joined by a hollow-eyed Harry and a miserable-looking Hermione in shabby state of dress. Both looked as though they had not slept the whole night. Avoiding each other, they sat on either side of Ron. Apart from a concerned glance from Hermione at Harry's bruised hands, they did not interact.

As the day progressed, it seemed not much better. They barely spoke, giving minimum responses to anything any of the other Gryffindors asked. Eventually, they wisely decided to leave the pair alone.

Ron had enough by the end of the day. Waiting until they were alone in the common room, the few students there taking the hint, Ron threw his bag into a chair, the resulting loud bang seeming to jolt Harry and Hermione out of their stupor.

"Okay, what happened between you two? It's really obvious," he added, noticing the surprised looks that had flashed across their faces. Harry folded his arms, pointedly and childishly ignoring both Ron and Hermione. Hermione bit her lip, looking over at his rigid back.

Ron was just contemplating breaking both their stubborn heads open with his broomstick when Hermione spoke, her voice brittle.

"Harry… I'm sorry. I – I shouldn't have said the things I said." Ron glanced nervously between the pair, aware that something major was happening but having no idea exactly what.

Harry's back relaxed almost imperceptibly. "So have you? … Sorted out your feelings." His voice was no longer the harsh hiss he had used yesterday.

"I have."

Harry rose to his feet. "That's good." A veil descended over his face, clouding his true emotions.

He had been replaying the past few days over and again in his mind's eye. It was true he cared about Hermione, perhaps more than just a best friend, but it would certainly lead to complications. Entering a relationship with her would mean the equivalent of painting a huge, glowing target on her head. Even as his friend, she had suffered from the poisoned quill of Rita Skeeter. Although she later handled the situation admirably, it was folly to say Voldemort and his Death Eaters were in the same league.

She was standing in front of him when Harry came back to the real world with a start.

"Harry?"

He blinked, and looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, for thinking it could happen. For doing this to you in the first place. None of this would have happened if I hadn't kissed you that day."

Both Ron and Hermione blanched.

"You kissed her?!" spluttered Ron.

Hermione shook her head slowly, dreading the next words.

"Harry… what are you saying?" she whispered.

"It was all a mistake," he said firmly. "I haven't been fair to you at all, pressuring you like that. It's my fault." Harry finally looked into her eyes, his own brimming with guilt. "I'm sorry."

She bit her lip, her emotions crumbling all over again to be replaced by anger. Her hand lashed out, connecting with the side of his face and hovering at the end of its arc.

"Kissing me was a mistake?" she repeated, her voice teetering on the brink of tears.

Harry looked away. _Let her think what she needs to think._

Hermione stormed out of the portrait hole. Ron gazed, open-mouthed at his friend.

"You kissed Hermione?"

He rubbed his cheek, his silence answer enough.

Ron's lip twisted and he left for the boys' dormitory, leaving Harry alone. His hand repeated the mechanical motion, moving up and down his face but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Hurting Hermione like that had been more painful than he reckoned and he wondered if she would ever trust him again.

_Maybe someday you'll know everything, Hermione. I did it for you. I don't want you to end up like Sirius._


	10. Denial

_1__st__ July, 1995_

Ron rolled his eyes as he watched Harry and Hermione blush and squirm. Honestly, it had been a week since that uncomfortable incident in which he had learned that his two best friends had kissed. Even though he had forgiven them both, they had not been completely at ease with each other since, never meeting each other's eyes. Whenever one entered a room, the other would find an excuse to leave.

That sunny afternoon, he was playing wizarding chess with Neville and concentrating on the game was becoming difficult, thanks to the awkward atmosphere created with the two of them.

"Give it a rest, guys," he snapped irritably, slamming a hand down on the table in front of him, causing the enchanted chess pieces to jump and shake their fists at him. "Get over it."

Hermione blushed and fidgeted, her hands in her lap. Harry merely looked embarrassed as he leaned against the back of Ron's chair.

Neville looked up from the pieces, frowning deeply. Nobody had told him anything and he was much too polite to pry into the private affairs of his friends. He focused his attention back on the pieces.

"Knight to E3." The round-faced boy leaned back in his chair with a satisfied air. "Checkmate."

"What?!" Ron gaped at the board, staring dumbly as his king took off his crown and tossed it at Neville's celebrating chessmen. "Oh, damn."

He shot an annoyed look at both Harry and Hermione. The implication was clear: it was their fault, their antics had distracted him from the game.

Neville got to his feet, stretching. "It's a beautiful day out, Harry, how about we go outside for a walk?"

Ron and Hermione looked surprised – since when did _Neville_ go out for walks with Harry? – but Harry nodded, walking over to the portrait hole.

The two boys' footsteps echoed through the empty stone corridor. Most of the students, their parents terrified by Voldemort's return, had gone home early for the summer holidays. Only a few were left, waiting for the term to end, the day after the next.

When they were outside, Neville decided to break the silence, partly because he was curious about the whole affair, partly because grim Harry was creeping him out.

"Harry… just what happened between you and Hermione?"

The other boy exhaled, running his hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it, Neville."

"… I know that Hermione and you liked each other."

Harry's head snapped up, anger mixed with shock in his face. "How did you – "

"It's that obvious," I said simply. "I could see it in Hermione's and your eyes."

For one awful moment, Neville thought Harry was going to hit him. He was not expecting for him to cover his face with his hand, the picture of defeat.

Abruptly, a change came over Harry and he straightened up, his hand dropping to his side.

"You're wrong," he said flatly, looking away over the grounds at the Forbidden Forest. "There's nothing between Hermione and I."

Abject shock flashed across Neville's face. "But – "

Harry shot him a hard glare. "Hermione and I are just platonic best friends. Nothing else." He marched stiff-legged away from his classmate across the grass.

Neville knew better than to go after him as he watched the other boy leave. They had gone through the Department of Mysteries together and he knew that there was more to Harry than met the eye.

There was no question in Neville's mind about the relationship between him and Hermione, the transparent affection in their eyes was more than enough to indicate that they went beyond friends. Hermione's words came to the round-faced boy's mind: Harry and his 'saving-people thing'. It was all painfully evident now.

Harry cared too much about Hermione; that was why he was pushing her away from him. Neville remembered the raw anguish in Harry's face when that man was killed. He now knew it was Sirius Black, although the connection between him and his fellow Gryffindor was yet unclear to him. Harry had cared for Black, he could see it when the convict had died.

Harry's behaviour made perfect sense when Neville brought in the Black incident. He was afraid of losing her and kept her at arm's length for her safety. The decision was killing him, especially since Hermione returned his feelings.

Neville shook his head incredulously. "What a fine mess," he said aloud.

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_27__th__ August, 1995_

After he had been thoroughly fed by Mrs. Weasley and had gone upstairs to rest. Harry encountered Crookshanks on the stairs.

"Hey, boy," he muttered, bending out to pet the massive animal. Much to his surprise, the cat hissed, his fur standing on end and backed away. Bemused, he watched the animal bound up the stairs.

"I guess Hermione's still angry with me." Exhaling, he climbed the stairs. Only now when he puffed did he realize how tired he was.

Standing at the end of the corridor was Hermione, wearing a dressing gown, a contented Crookshanks in her arms. She avoided his eyes decidedly as he approached.

"Hermione?" Harry was genuinely glad to see her; it had taken him a while to realize how happy she made him.

She tightened her lips and looked away. "Harry."

The coolness in her tone hurt him deeply.

_Was it really worth it to push her away? _Harry had ruined their friendship, all for the sake of her safety. Even if it cut his heart into a thousand shards, he'd do it all over again if it meant her happiness.

"It's late. Why aren't you asleep?"

She bit her lip, her absent stroking of Crookshanks coming to a halt. "I heard the commotion downstairs." Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath, finding him standing uncomfortably close.

Slowly, he reached out with his hand and pushed a lock of her hair from her face. "Get some rest," he murmured, his voice strangely tender. "Good night."

Before she could react, he was gone, the door of his bedroom closing with a click.

Strangely enough, Hermione had not minded it at all.


End file.
